


A Roman Idyll

by seraphflight



Category: Vampire Chronicles - All Media Types, Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 07:14:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18823738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphflight/pseuds/seraphflight
Summary: Louis and Lestat enjoy a sensual evening together, sampling the delights of Rome and of each other.





	A Roman Idyll

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Written between 27th July, 2005 and 8th July 2006, this story features Louis de Pointe du Lac and Lestat de Lioncourt. Louis was written by me, Lestat by another writer. All characters belong to Anne Rice, and this story was written and has been reproduced here purely for entertainment purposes. No money has ever or will ever be made from this RPG story, which originally appeared on a Ricean-themed forum.

_**Louis** _

The silence sat heavily in that ancient place, its golden sandstone having been built on an earlier place of veneration. Faint lingering traces of cloying incense had blended with the fragrances of melted beeswax candles and the familiar sweet tang of polish on smooth dark wooden pews where I sat, gazing upwards at the stained glass windows and imagining how they might look if illumined by sunshine. Shadows gowned much of this chapel now, of course, yet still a few people moved around. Some were tourists like myself, more interested in architecture and art than any religious significance; but others bowed their heads submissively to tradition as they genuflected and began their private conversations with their deity.

“Have you finished staring at the ceiling, Louis?”

Beside me, sprawling with deliberate disregard for propriety, Lestat was smiling broadly and raising his arms in an exaggerated stretch. He arched his back and pretended to yawn, then ran one hand through his hair and sighed with feigned, blasé boredom.

“I gather you have indulged in quite enough culture for one night, hmm?”

He was already rising to his Cuban-heeled feet, flinging his cream linen jacket over one shoulder and stepping into the aisle. I smiled faintly, accepting his silent answer resignedly, and I slowly followed his out of the quiet chapel and into the almost-deserted plaza. Our steps echoed back to us, amplified by the surrounding buildings. I gazed at the blue-white froth of the fountain, little pools of yellow artificial light lending its cool waters some luminosity as I trailed my fingers over than damp marble stone, enjoying the cold hardness which contrasted so appealingly with the soft misty spray against my face.

“Could this moment be more perfect?” I smiled faintly and added, “Together once more, Lestat; and in Rome. Could you find even one small thing which might enhance this night?”

His soft laugh was almost a whisper against my ear as he moved to stand behind me, slipping his arms under mine to enclose my upper body in a tight embrace. His weight pressed against mine and I leant back against him, enjoying the simple pleasures of physical closeness. I folded my arms over his, cupping the back of his hands with my palms, feeling the prominent knuckles of those long, strong fingers push against my cold and yielding flesh. I closed my eyes to deprive myself of any distracting visual irrelevances, aiming to absorb and memorise these few precious seconds as a talisman against the long centuries to come.

“Ah, Louis, we have eternity at our disposal....”

“Hmm; eternity..,” I replied, already wondering how much of that eternity would be spent away from him. Always it had been this way with us; we come together for a time then separate, like planets whose orbits run parallel for a while before diverging once more. And each time our paths cease to merge it tears my soul apart. How many times can one soul heal?

A soft laugh ruffled the hair by my ear. “Will you just stop it? This infamous morbidity of yours would try the patience of a saint.”

I smiled and leaned more firmly against him, feeling his chest pressed against my back, aware of his grip creasing my white silk shirt beyond easy redemption. Teasingly, I murmured, “Oh? And whatever happened to your aspirations to sainthood, mon amour?”

A sharp pinch stung my waist as he enacted his mild retaliation. “If you dare bring that subject up once more, you’ll feel my wrath.” As he was smiling warmly while saying this, I was not overly concerned.

A wicked smile curled over my parted lips as I coolly replied, “I would have thought you’d have founded at least one monastery by now. What would you call it, I wonder? Our Lady’s Coven of Repentant Predators, perhaps? I wonder how many converts would lapse at their first communion? One whiff of symbolic blood and all their saintly intentions would fly out of the pulpit...”

I narrowly missed being plunged head-first into the fountain. As it was, my shirt was now completely ruined and my trousers were rather damp but I didn’t care. I was laughing so much my ribs ached, and I knew Lestat was only pretending to sulk. He stood a little distance from me, trying his utmost to look nonchalant while brushing imaginary dust from his shirt sleeve. I was pleased to see his attire had not altogether escaped unscathed.

I walked to his side and flung one arm casually around his shoulders. “Come on, let’s leave this place.”

“You want to leave Italy already?”

“Non! Of course not; these nights have been idyllic. I don’t want them to ever end...”

Lestat smiled and turned me to face him. “A Roman idyll, hey? That holds some appeal for me, too.”

He sighed heavily and met my gaze, his expression now more serious. He moved a little closer, his line of vision coming to rest on my mouth. A faint smile flickered over his lips as he very slowly moved his face closer to mine, tilted his head slightly and, with incredible delicacy, touched the lightest of kisses to my cool forehead. Slowly, very slowly, his kisses traced a path down the side of my face to my throat, his hands rising first to my shoulders and then to cup the sides of my head as if to hold my own kisses captive. He paused, looking steadily into my hungry eyes, then gently presses his lips to mine – lightly at first then more demanding, moving his lips in steady circular motions as he pressed his tongue between my passive lips, greedily searching and exploring, pushing and then, when I was not quite ready, a familiar sting made me flinch slightly. I felt my own blood fill my mouth and flood over Lestat’s lapping tongue.

  
_**Lestat** _

I do not need the mind gift, denied in any case, to read what this kiss holds. Even after the time that flows between us like a hidden sin, the silk of a wanton desire captures me fully. My hands know the cool hardness that presses against my own...and my touch finds those still resilient places that give way to the soft pressure and coaxing of my fingers. Each muscle grows taut and tense as if waiting for permission to succumb...and submission is very much on my mind. But whose...?

My hands move like a question over Louis’s chest, fingers catching in the soft silk of his shirt. I feel his tongue answer my own...and the small frisson that shakes me as his teeth find their mark. The soft flow, visceral...sensual,,,a mingle and tangle that holds a promise of more. Pulling away, I look into my reflected image and catch his smile. Enigmatic as always...and sometimes a little edged. What goes on in the secret heart of a lover is a temptation of its own. His hands slide down over my back as he steps away to study me thoughtfully. Not a word passes...only a communion that time cannot mark. He is calculating...very much taking my measure as if testing me in some way. I can feel a slight slip in my heart....

Taking his arm with my own, I no longer feel a pleasant companionship...there is a scar of something darker that pulls at me. Intrigue...a pleasant unease that palpitates steadily under the surface...sets the pace of our gait as we slowly work our way back to the hotel. Whoever said the years yield no surprises speaks from a lack of experience. The air crackles with an unknown heat...and I make no excuses for my sudden haste. My hand grabs his as I usher us both into the traffic of the streets, not heeding anything around me. I am aware only of each atom of him as it vibrates into my skin...my blood. There is a slight shake in my movements...an expectancy that is piqued as his hands slips down to press against my thigh. I count the eternity of steps that lead us back into the hotel...the immeasurable minutes that force sanity and restraint as we are delivered to our door. And once I have closed it upon the blind and indifferent curiosity of strangers, my hands move to shred garments in one blind frenzy.

  
_**Louis** _

Firmly I placed my hands over his. “Patience, mon amour; patience.”

I half-turned away from him, guiding him further into our hotel suite. The rooms were perhaps a little lavish for my own relatively simple requirements, but I do so like to indulge Lestat’s more flamboyant tastes.

My clothes were still damp from my encounter with the fountain. Slowly, I slipped out of my jacket and draped this carefully over the back of an antique plush velvet chair. I sat down and bent forwards to untie my shoelaces, my long pale fingers deftly pulling at the secure knots, though my eyes were on Lestat as he strolled across the room to pull closed the long drapes.

Barefoot now, my shoes and socks left discarded, I rose again and padded over the thick cream, gold and crimson Tibetan carpet towards the cool, smooth ivory tiles of the pristine bathroom. The large white bath, with its curving gold taps, looked inherently inviting, and soon the room began to fill with steam. I added a copious amount of oil to the gushing water, and the moist air instantly filled with heady jasmine.

I knew Lestat was behind me, leaning against the doorframe as I methodically lit the little rose-shaped candles which sat in charming clusters on glittering surfaces around the room. The large mirrors were already obscured by silvery condensation. His hand knowingly reached to turn off the artificial lights.

He said absolutely nothing as he watched me slowly unbutton my white silk shirt and gently pull its length free of my waistband. My skin was as pale as the silk. I allowed my fingertips to glide over the delicate indentation of my solar plexus, then over my perfectly flat stomach and down to my belt buckle, deliberately teasing his hungry eyes. The soft leather coiled around my hands as I pulled the belt loose.

  
_**Lestat** _

My hand covered his own and pulled at the belt, savouring the sharp sting of the leather against the inside of my palm as it slid against the skin in a warm slice. Tossing it carelessly to the floor, my hands inched upwards to run over the taut, cool ivory of his chest. Steam was beginning to fill the room slightly; it crept over the floor, dampening the already slick surface.

Grasping Louis’s shoulders with my hands, I pressed him back against the counter of the sink, felling he slightest hint of resistance before he pulled me into him, his hands running down the length of my body before coming to rest on the back of my thighs. His mouth was on mine, out tongues moving against each others in a sweet and dark rhythm. My hands moved back down to his pants, fingers gently slipping under the button and inching the zipper down until I felt the heavy silk slide down his legs, brushing my own skin, before joining his other clothing on the tile.

Each press of his tongue against my own elicited the sharp beat of my pulse. He was teasing me as only he knew how to. He was a master at working that sweet trick of resistance on me...and he did it without mercy...holding back slightly...knowing full well how it only enticed me more. There was such a fine line between control and surrender...and he played it with a subtle dance of wills.

I felt the sharp prick of his teeth as they broke into my tongue and I moaned softly into a kiss that was growing every deeper. There was an urgent rush in my heart as his lips sucked against my own, drawing my blood into his mouth. He broke the kiss, his tongue running the length of my inner lips before pulling away.

There was something unreadable that flickered in his green eyes – it was so quick I almost thought I had imagined it. A flash of the inscrutable as if a thought too dark dared not make itself known. His hands came up to press against my cheeks and I could feel the damp heat from the steam as it seeped into his palms. Warmth replaced the chill where his hands moved over my willing flesh...and my hands moved as if on their own to brush the dark hair back from his face. The room was almost too warm...the steam rendering the air too languid and close to think clearly. Suddenly, he slipped his arm around my waist...his hips pressing against my own as his hand reached for mine. An enigmatic smile lit his lips as he led me to the edge of the tub.

  
_**Louis** _

I laughed softly at his impatience. “Lestat, mon amour, are you planning to bathe fully clothed?”

He had partially removed some of his outer things already. They lay in a hasty pathway from the hotel door to where he now stood. He glanced down at his body, suddenly aware of himself again. Then he flashed one of those dazzling smiles with which he had first captured my soul. In a moment, his short was torn from his body and its remnants flung to the floor.

“Mon amour, that was a $200 shirt....”

“Bah! No matter.” He grinned impishly, then shrugged. “I have others, you know.”

“You are incorrigible.”

“I know. It’s one of the things you love about me.”

I laughed quietly as I slid my hands round his waist and pulled him closer, nuzzling the side of his chilly neck with my small, feathery kisses. “Are we actually going to get into this bath at some point in time, hmm?”

“Ah, Louis, Louis....”

“Don’t you dare say it!”

Lestat laughed aloud, his hair falling over his forehead. “Ah, merde! But you look so deliciously pompous whenever you complain about that little phrase! And besides....”

My kiss silenced his impending witticism, enclosing his parted lips unexpectedly so that for a few seconds he continued to emit odd little mumbles into my mouth. I grabbed a fistful of his hair and held him in service to my will as my tongue slid over his, tasting his oh-so-familiar taste, stealing the very breath from his lungs. My left hand slid down to the waistband of his trousers where my nimble fingers quickly and deftly did their work. The soft cloth slid down over his smooth, white thighs.

Without speech I indicated that he was to get in the bath. Though a smirk of amusement coiled over Lestat’s lips, his eyes betrayed a faint uncertainty as he slowly clambered into the tub and exhaled a long sigh as the heat of the steamy water enfolded him.

Still silent, I slid in behind him, cradling him between my long legs. I leant back against the tub sides and gently pulled him backwards to lean against me. He signed again and closed his blue eyes contentedly as I reached for a large sponge and began rubbing it with a small bar of handmade jasmine-scented soap.

Slowly, languorously, I pressed the hot sponge against his right collar bone, the soap releasing its perfume on the rising steam. A soft flood of white suds steadily trailed down over his broad chest, his erect nipple emerging from the soap like a small pale pink island.

A long sigh slipped from between my parted lips. “Ah, mon amour, it seems I have been waiting for your touch for ever....”

“Time is so strange,” Lestat replied, relaxing more fully in the steaming waters of our shared bath, his skin firm and moist against mine. “Months can pass in moments, years can seem like only a few months when recollected, and seconds can last for eternity.”

“Oui, it is solely a matter of perception, cher. But surely we are not going to engage upon one of our long explorations of philosophy tonight, hmm?” I lazily lick the droplets of moisture which have gathered on his smooth, broad shoulders. My hands cup his hips as I draw my thighs higher around his waist so that I might slide as close as is possible around his body, which now leans backwards against me, his head resting against my left shoulder.

I run my hands higher, my touch growing more probing as the smooth plane of his flat stomach with its delicate little navel lies passive to my touch. One hand stays to firmly grip him there, the other slides yet higher, tracing the ridged contours of his ribs, his broad, powerful chest with its twin silken circles of exquisitely sensitive flesh. I pinch one nipple between my thumb and forefinger, smiling as his back arches slightly against the mild pain.

I bury my face into his hair and quietly murmur “That’s for keeping me waiting....”


End file.
